Fireworks
by Jini
Summary: In which Kuchiki Rukia learns the meaning of New Years and fireworks… with the aid of an ever reluctant Kurosaki Ichigo. [IchiRuki][Part 1 of 2]


Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me.

Author's notes: I haven't updated **Fighting that Feeling** in months, and I'm really sorry to those who are waiting for chapter four! Blame projects and university applications, not to mention my procrastinating tendencies.

Anyway, I thought of writing something for the New Year, and well... here it is. I hope you enjoy it in replacement for the delay on chapter four. Happy New Years, everyone!

Summary: In which Rukia learns the meaning of New Years and fireworks… with the aid of an ever-reluctant Kurosaki Ichigo.

* * *

**FIREWORKS **

Part One: Of dresses and compliments

Rukia had never heard of this "New Years" idea before and frankly she was quite intrigued by the notion. According to her "sources" New Years was a time of celebration, a time where every person in the world cheered for the end of one year and the start of another. It involved wasting valuable energy jumping like an idiot at the strike of midnight, and these things Ichigo had called 'fireworks' which he said shoot out across the sky and explode.

Rukia's face at that time was as though she'd been clubbed on the head - humans would actually create such a device that would put their lives on the line, and over as something trivial as a national holiday? Really... humans were strange creatures. It made her wonder if they'd always challenged Death like this – as if they thought it's cold, scaly claws could never touch them, like a daredevil. However, Ichigo had snorted when she'd pointed this out to him.

"They don't kill you when it explodes," he'd said, rolling his eyes.

"Then what _do_ they do then?" she said, slightly exasperated.

At her question, Ichigo opened his mouth, however, he was prompt to clamp it back shut – looking baffled.

"Well?" she'd said, still waiting. She watched him flounder for a response, but it became blatantly obvious after the fact that he didn't have the slightest idea either. The sight made her smirk. "You don't know, do you?"

Ichigo had only a moment to look surprised, before he'd jerked his head in the opposite direction, grumbling, "I do so," but didn't press on it nor had bother to elaborate. This, more than anything, made Rukia chortle with glee.

"You don't! Hah!" She snickered behind her hand. "I knew it."

"Yeah, yeah," he'd said, evidently irritated she'd won this round. "Just don't get a big head."

But Rukia had continued to playfully mock his lack of knowledge ("and I'm not even from this world!") and Ichigo, who'd eventually gotten fed up, threatened to go Bankai on her ass if she didn't shut up any time soon. And that had been that of their lovely morning conversation. However, in the end, Rukia was still confused and she still didn't know what New Years was.

Honestly, this New Years day was more difficult to grasp than she'd thought.

_I must do more research_, she thought firmly, and with that in mind she'd headed straight to Karin's room. Rukia hoped there was something she could read that would easily define what exactly New Years was to her.

However, three hours later, she'd gone through all the books and the only thing she'd managed to conclude was Death Note's perception of Shinigami was off – by a long shot.

Rukia threw the last of Karin's manga onto the pile she'd discarded them in during her search, frowning and quite put out that her main source of information hadn't been enough to provide her the answers.

She placed the books back onto the shelf and retired back to Ichigo's room, where she slumped on his bed, crestfallen.

Moments later, Ichigo had come up, along with her usual tray of lunch served in his hands. When he saw her there, looking as though she were some child who'd been given a spanking, all he could do was raise a questioning brow at her. Rukia grumbled that the manga hadn't helped and she was still as lost as ever on the whole concept of New Years day. At this, Ichigo's curious expression fell onto one that Rukia saw most often – it was a look of incredulity.

"What?" Rukia snapped. She hated when he looked at her like that; she felt like an idiot. And worse – she felt smaller. If Kurosaki Ichigo was belittling her, he'd better watch out; his face wouldn't be the only thing she'd kick at this rate.

When he finally regained himself, he snorted (much like he did when she told him about the fireworks) and rolled his eyes. "You're still thinking about that? Gosh..." he muttered, shaking his head.

Rukia glared. "I searched everywhere for some information!" she said, somewhat defensive. And then she looked hopeless. "But I didn't find anything! How am I supposed to adjust to these human activities if I am not able to acquire information?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Simple: don't try so hard," he said, in a tone that indicated this was obvious. "Just live it. New Years isn't supposed to be figured out… it's meant to be enjoyed."

"Enjoyed?" she'd repeated, incredulous. "But New Years deals with explosions! How could anyone find any entertainment in nuclear detonations?"

She'd been rewarded by a look that seemed to say 'are you freaking serious?'

Rukia was aware that he still though her concern was anything short but ridiculous. And it was that more than anything she couldn't decide on whether or not she should hit him for it.

To make matters worse, he was smiling – no he was laughing.

"What's so funny?" she asked, eyeing him critically.

"Nothing," he said, but his voice quivered as though threatening to laugh. Rukia's eyes narrowed.

"You're laughing," she pointed out. At _me_, she thought, biting back the urge to thump Ichigo on the head.

"No... I'm n-not..." Ichigo snorted. "Seriously."

Snort.

"Hah!" Rukia said, triumphant, although she really shouldn't be rejoicing. She pointed at him accusingly. "Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not!"

"..."

Snicker.

_Okay_, she thought, seriously annoyed now. Ichigo was _so_ going to die.

It was a good thing she'd read Naruto too – the book did wonders on the ways of the ninja. A highly reliable book incase you ever want to dish out some well-deserved vengeance on a certain carrot-head idiot. Now that she had a reason to, she could finally test out this so called 'a thousand years of death.'

However, before she could even muster the proper seal to do so, Ichigo said, in a much refine tone than the last, "Back to the point, why don't you just come to the New Years party at Keigo's with me tonight?"

The scowl on her face quickly dissipated and she was left looking curious again. "A party?" she asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," said Ichigo, scratching the back of his head. "For New Years."

"A party," she repeated, staring at him.

"Yes."

"For New Years," she clarified.

Ichigo made a sound close to impatience. "Did I stutter?"

"Hm…" A New Years party, huh? She thought, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Sounds like fun. And it should be quite informative.

However…

Her lips settled for a frown, and she was gazing at him with suspicion.

"Is this another joke, Ichigo, because if it is I'll kick you where you'll surely feel—"

Ichigo blinked, almost in shock but then it was quick to give way to annoyance. "What? No, you dumbass!" He scowled. "Geez… what do you take me for?"

Rukia shrugged carelessly. She contemplated his suggestion for another minute longer, and then, deciding that she liked the idea, nodded in satisfaction. "Okay," she said.

"Okay what?" Ichigo snapped, undoubtedly still stung by her indictment.

"I'll come," she said. "With you. To the party."

"Why didn't you just freaking say so?" Ichigo scoffed, shaking his head. "Honestly... so troublesome," he muttered, irritated. "Here." He shoved the tray into her hands, rather unceremoniously. "Eat it before it gets cold. I'll come back up later – by then you should be ready to leave."

He made a move to walk out the door, but he was stopped suddenly when she reached out and grabbed his arm.

He groaned. "_Now _what is it?" he complained.

Rukia chose to ignore his aggravation and said, evenly, "Nothing. I just wanted to thank you."

His anger was gone in a flash and he was looking at her with a mixture between surprise and confusion. "For what?" he said.

"For this," she said, shrugging, "The opportunity."

For a moment, it was all he could do not to stare at her with incredulity. She was thanking him for the opportunity to learn more about New Years? She was _definitely_ odd, but then again he was not totally bewildered – she had asked him stranger things than this. Ichigo grumbled at the million times she'd asked him to explain to her the notion of Santa Clause ("He sneaks into your home – say what?"). And don't get him started on Rudolph the Red Nose reindeer, he thought, sourly.

So, in comparison to everything else this was almost _normal_.

He would have entertained her by remarking something crude about her enthusiasm, which would undoubtedly rile her up and result another argument, given if it were any other circumstances than this. For reasons he could not understand, he thought it felt somewhat pleasant ending a conversation with Rukia without one of them blowing up at one another or causing the other some bodily harm or whatnot (which 50 per cent of the time was usually what happened).

Instead, he gave her a small, almost inexisting, lopsided grin that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else who didn't know him half as well as Rukia did.

She caught it and vaguely returned the gesture.

Yeah, thought Ichigo decidedly, this _was_ nice. Weird… but it left him strangely content, knowing that this sort of thing (as bizarre as it was) was what made her happy.

Especially when her blue eyes lit up the way they did and her face was all hopeful – he'd have to say it was almost… attractive. Ichigo took a few steps back, almost stunned with himself… or more so with what he'd just thought. _Did_ he just think that? He wondered, because for the life of him he couldn't believe that it as him.

Bah.

Thinking about this was indisputably killing brain cells – or was it simply because he naturally did circles whereas Kuchiki Rukia was involved? Bah, he said again. She was troublesome and gave him more headaches than anyone else in his life. Of course, anything like that should be everything _but _attractive – right? _Right?_

Kami, he was getting a headache.

It wasn't that he thought Rukia was attractive or anything, even though she most _definitely_ was attractive – he'd merely been speculating was all. He could feel his cheeks heat up despite his – rather… obstinate (quote on quote) resolve on the matter, per se.

Bah, he thought. He shouldn't really be dwelling on this. Since he made a blunder, he should just acknowledge the fact that he'd made a mistake and then have completely disregarded it by now. He didn't know where he thought he needed to explain himself for letting slip Rukia was…well, not entirely unappealing.

Irony had a weird way of rearing its ugly face in the most undesirable moments.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't have time to react when the food tray came hurling at him from across the room. Needless to say, Ichigo was on his back with swirling images of stars circling his vision and the unquestionable red mark across his face that the tray had undeniably hit its goal.

"OW! What the hell—"He didn't have time to show her his apparent indignity that she'd used _him_ for target practice, because he was being tugged along by the collar and thrown out the door.

"Stop staring like an idiot already," said Rukia, exasperated. "Get out!"

And with that, she slammed the door in his face, almost clipping his nose in the process.

"Bitch!" he snapped, loudly enough to be heard through the door.

The door flew back opened and Rukia emerged, this time with a plate in hand that seemed ready to be launched. At him.

"OW!"

Beauty was brutal.

* * *

Later that evening, Ichigo, now dressed in a dress shirt and pants, crept back up the stairs, trying – and failing – to do up his tie. He would have abandoned any reasoning to bring said item if not for the fact that his father had practically _pestered _him to wear one. And so far, it was being a total bitch to him.

He hoped Rukia was ready at least. The sooner they could leave, the sooner he could rid of this inconsequential, evil black tie that despised him as much as he despised it.

Stopping by the door to his room, however, he couldn't bring himself to knock.

He stared the handle a little wearily; reluctant to enter even if it was, technically, his room and that he shouldn't be so nervous about entering something that was evidently _his_. He wasn't sure, but he was a little paranoid to think that something else would chuck at him again if he so much as knocked. It wasn't like Rukia installed launching kitchen dispenses when he wasn't looking, right? Again, the possibilities made him doubtful.

Ichigo sighed and tapped twice against the door.

He heard a slight squeal from the other side followed by a ruffling of clothing.

Ichigo raised a brow. Seconds later, Rukia's voice was loud and clear.

"W-Who is it?" she said, sounding somewhat miffed.

"Uh…it's me," said Ichigo, trying to sound casual, "Are you ready yet?"

There was some hesitation, until finally, "No."

"What? But you had over an hour to get ready. Why?" he said, bewildered.

"Because."

"Because…?" he prompted, urging her to continue.

"Because," she clarified simply as if that was that.

"You are going to have to be more specific than that you know?" he said dryly. He sighed. "Can I at least come in?"

"…No."

Ichigo found himself growing more and more annoyed and fast.

"And why the hell not?" he demanded. "It's my room! I'm going to have to come in at some time."

"Because," she said again.

"Because…?"

"Because."

Oh, he was beginning to hate this game.

"If you don't give me a reason this instant I'll break down the door," he warned.

"AARGHH!" She groaned. "It's because you'll _laugh_ at me already!" she said bitterly. "That's why!"

_That _was all the fuss was about? Ichigo huffed. "Rukia, frig – what the hell do I have to laugh at you about?" he said.

"Oh, trust me; you'll have a reason to laugh at me if I let you in."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I won't laugh at you."

"Yes. Oh, yes you will," she said firmly. "I just know it."

"I said I won't laugh at you already!" said Ichigo, impatiently. Kami, this girl was _infuriating_.

A pause.

"You swear?"

He groaned. "Good God, Rukia, will you just—"

"Swear it or I'll throw something else at you," she promised, her tone threatening.

"I swear I won't laugh at you, okay?" He rubbed his forehead – he was getting another headache. "Are you freaking happy now?"

Rukia sighed and said in a hesitant tone, "A-Alright. But I'm warning you Ichigo – one snort and I'm chucking your bed at you."

Ichigo had no misgivings in his mind that she wouldn't, but right now, he was too impatient to care.

"Geez. Finally!" he grumbled, turning the handle and pushing the door open. "Now, what the hell is all the…nonsense…about…" his voice trailed off as his eyes focused on that disbelieving, yet enthralling figure before him.

There, suited in a lavishing midnight blue dress with her hair in a wave of tresses, was Rukia – or someone that looked very much like Rukia, because his brain couldn't process that that person standing in front of him was really Rukia. It couldn't be… could it? The more he stared at her, the more he was gradually beginning to believe it.

"Well?" Rukia mumbled, staring at her hands – for once she looked abashed and shy, which he'd have teased her mercilessly for if he wasn't so brain-dead right now. She couldn't translate the look on his face as anything positive, but the fact that his jaw was practically hanging only an inch above the ground confirmed that she must have looked dreadful. She blamed Inoue for sticking the idea into her head that she actually looked good in it. She should have known better. "I knew it," she grumbled, frowning at the dress now. "I look hideous, don't I?"

Ichigo swallowed. His throat was so dry. And his mind was practically racing overtime. _Hideous?_ What do you mean _hideous_? He would have yelled, but at that moment he was still incapable of speech, much less forming straight sentences – it was as though someone had taken his vocals and thrown them away, leaving him breathless and his heart pounding loud in his ears. Here he was, absolutely flabbergasted and she was calling herself hideous?

Was she mad? Was she deranged?

Both were correct if thought out properly.

If anything, he'd have to say she was positively beautiful!

The dress, as simple as it was, did wonders on her figure, hugging every curve of her body that normally wouldn't have been seen in her daily clothing. It was sparkling and as deep as the blue pools of her eyes. And at her left side, the dress was split, revealing an eyeful of one smooth leg. It was all Ichigo could do _not_ to stare, but he figured he'd already failed horribly in that department when he walked in and saw her there. It made him wonder how she'd even gotten possession of such a dress to begin with.

Bah.

What the hell was the matter with him? It wasn't like him to be so…so… bowled over something – and over such a trivial thing as a dress too. It was not as if he'd never seen her in a dress before, because he had – every day in fact. And even then he hadn't had quite the reaction seeing her in those other dresses as he had with this one.

"Hello? Ichigo!" There was a hand waving across his face. "Oi, Ichigo!"

Ichigo jerked out of his reverie but he hadn't been prepared for what he saw next and nearly yelled out in alarm.

Rukia was no longer standing at the other end of the room but was now stationed just a couple meters away from him, arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping incessantly. He took several steps back, to ensure a lengthy distance between them; his heart hammering faster than ever.

Dear Kami.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" Rukia demanded. Her mood seemed to have worsen now that he'd jumped away from her like she was on fire.

"Uh…well…" he stammered, trying to think of something to say but kept drawing up a blank. Kami, he was doomed. If he answered her, he'd be forced to look at her… and if he looked at her…

However, Rukia seemed to have gathered as much from his silence. "Oh, fine. There's no need to stall," she snapped. "I _get_ it."

Ichigo blinked. "What?"

"I get it," she said venomously. "It looks horrible – that's why you're so speechless."

All Ichigo could do was gap at her wordlessly.

"I'm going to go change now," she mumbled sulkily, storming off towards the sanctum of her closet.

It wasn't that she was angry he didn't say anything. More so she was just…hurt, embarrassed and, above other things, disappointed with his response – or lack of. What exactly was she expecting him to say for that matter? It wasn't like Ichigo to shower with compliments.

But if she was really honest with herself, she was actually hoping he'd be blown away by her appearance. After all, it wasn't every day she dressed like this. But the fact that he seemed so… taken aback – like he'd taken a real mean kick to the face – was less than disappointing indeed. The least he could do was give her the decency of saying she was the most gruesome creature in all of Karakura – she'd take that over the silent treatment any time. At least, she'd know what the hell it is he thought about her, rather than trying to figure it out through means of insignificant, probably nonexistent signals he may be conveying to her or whatever.

God, Ichigo was stupid, she thought vehemently.

"Wait."

Rukia suddenly felt a hand touch her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. She didn't turn around, but she was distinctly aware of Ichigo approaching her from behind.

"The dress isn't horrible," he said after releasing a breath, "It actually looks…decent."

At this, Rukia whirled to face him. "'Decent'?" she repeated, her voice deadly. "What do you mean 'decent'?"

Was that his way of saying she was some two-bit skank? She took it back. She'd rather Ichigo didn't say a thing, because it was becoming increasingly obvious he didn't know what a damn compliment was if it slapped him in the face and danced the salsa.

"Decent," said Ichigo slowly, "as in not half bad."

Rukia glared at him. "If you're just going to insult me, Ichigo, don't bother," she hissed angrily.

"Wait – what?" Ichigo said, shocked. He shook his head. "I wasn't aiming to insult you."

"Well, you did an excellent job complimenting my 'decent' dress!" she snapped, shoving his hand off her shoulder and striding towards the closet again.

Ichigo slapped his forehead. "What I meant was it looked nice!"

Rukia grunted, not believing him.

Ichigo sighed heavily, exasperated, and she was positive he'd walk out of the room in a huff, but to her surprise she felt him come up behind her again.

He took a deep breath. "Look," he said with renewed calmness, "I'm sorry if what I said came out as an insult—"She snorted. Insult was an understatement. However, Ichigo ignored her and continued, "—what I meant was that the dress was nice…I-In fact—"He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing shivers to tickle down her spine. He slowly turned her around. Rukia felt her breath cut short in her throat and her heart stop beating all together – she couldn't understand what was happening and why she suddenly felt warm all over. "—it looks _very_ nice," he said quietly, his eyes on her face.

Rukia thought she'd stopped breathing all together or that her heart was going to explode any second from beating so fast, because somehow those words made her feel overwhelmed, happy, glad, pleased, thrilled, excited – she had no idea what to do with herself. She felt her face overcome with a blush and she tried to hide it by looking away, however was still apparent.

"And I…I …thought…" He looked away as well, "you looked…p-pretty."

Rukia gaped. Did he really just… "Pretty?" she said in disbelief.

Ichigo cleared his throat. "Uh… I think we should be going now," he said, in attempt to avoid the subject. "It's almost eight, you know?"

"Hm…" Rukia mused, unconcern about the time. She felt the corner of her lips quirk upward into a small smile. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

Ichigo blushed furiously. "W-What?" he spluttered.

Rukia didn't miss a beat. "Do you really think I'm pretty?" she asked, although she already knew from the way he continued to blush and the fact that he tried to hide it by scowling menacingly at the wall was a fact that he did.

His scowl became more pronounced. "Yes," he said, grouchily. "So what if I do?" He glared at her. "What's it to _you_?"

Rukia shrugged. "Oh nothing," she said, but she was still smiling. Ichigo watched her through narrowed eyes. "Well, c'mon we have to go, don't we? It's almost eight?"

Ichigo grumbled. "Girls," he muttered, "So confusing. _Sheesh_."

Rukia was too content to bother retorting something to that. Instead, she skipped happily back over to the desk and grabbed her coat.

"Uh…Rukia?"

She turned around again. Ichigo was staring at his tie, with something close to pained confusion and irritation.

"Could you…uh…maybe help me with this?" he said, pointing at the tie. "It's being stupid."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "Honestly," she said with almost an air of impatience, as she walked back to him, "so hopeless sometimes."

"Don't start."

* * *

A/N: Longer than I expected, so this might just be a two part one-shot. I hope you all like it though.

Please review – comments are loved!


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